His dark voice trails down her spine, lighting a path of desire that renders her breathless. "If only I were in a position of no consequence."
Alia's breath wavers when the pad of his thumb slowly glides across her bottom lip.
"Then I could give in...
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"Death is a less bitter punishment than death's delay" - Ovid
•
Alia doesn't smile.
The male doesn't falter. Instead, he raises a brow and quips, "Something caught your tongue?"
She places her hands on her lap, back straight as she feigns a serene calm. "If you're the first of many, then I do not wish to entertain this conversation."
His grin widens. "Is that so?" Alia can see how his eyes twinkle with a firm resolve, and it makes her feel uneasy. "Then I mustn't let there be others, now can I?"
Alia opens her mouth in an attempt to reject his theory, but he smoothly turns his head towards the surrounding male wolves. The expression on his face is dark, unnerving, and it causes five of the men who eye her to swiftly look away.
He faces her again. "Apologies, my dear. My wolves can forget their place sometimes."
Alia's heart stills. "Your wolves?" she repeats, hands now incredibly tense.
She wishes Valen would save her from this. She wishes he'd save her from hearing that this male is Titled. That he's someone she has to bend her neck to.
"Of course," he says, eyes slowly trailing down her dress. "I am their Gamma, after all."
Alia swallows, eyes quickly scanning the Throne Room. She finds Kir a few steps away, casually conversing with one of the three hundred Untitled Vasileín guests whilst his eyes briefly meet hers. This is his Gamma. The Gamma he was assigned to kill, and only now does Alia recognise the blonde's face from one of the pictures they used in training.
Gods. Having those beady eyes on her really did fuck up her mind. She should've recognised him sooner.
Elijah Peters.
Gamma of the Pack of Voreios, and a man who shoved a blade through his father's heart just so he could inherit the Title sooner. He was fifteen when he murdered his family, shedding the blood of his mother, father, brother and two sisters. All for the glory of being a man in power.
"Forgive me," Alia says, slightly lowering her head. "I wasn't aware of your Title."
He hums, eyes finding her face. "Does it change your opinion of me?"
Alia doesn't look at him. "How can I change what does not exist."
This time, he chuckles. "How amusing," he says. "Even knowing my Title, you wish to remain difficult."
"Did you expect a mated woman to be easy?"
He looks at her, then he rubs his chin. "Mated?" His eyes narrow as he tries to identify any other scents on her skin. "Mated to who?"
"Do you care for a name or do you only wish to know if he's Titled?"
He smirks. "Oh, do keep talking." His eyes turn possessive. "I do enjoy a woman who can read my mind."
